Aftermath
by Lost Sapphires
Summary: "Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once; just once, understand." AU Dramione.
1. Prologue

Ok, so... another Dramione, and possibly my first multi-chap story! I want to go the distance with this one. But, I've never written anything but one-shots. In my words I do "situations & emotions", plots sometimes elude me... But I do have a plot for this and it will happen!

AU, but don't sue!

Please R&R, the out-pour of love for my last Dramione, made my heart soar. You guys rocked my world!

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It was a horrid place. Dark and dank, with slimy flagstone walls and dingy overhead lighting. He wondered what it had been before. A prison? A mausoleum? It had never been this before. A slave market. When did it become this? When was the last shred of dignity in their society destroyed?

There was someone screaming somewhere. A woman he thought. It was a painful noise, cutting through his mind like a blade. He had heard too many screams in the past years. Everyone screamed these days, the air was thick with noise and pain and despair. No one was happy any more. The darkness had won. He had won. It didn't feel that way.

"Are you impressed, Master Malfoy" Yaxley asked proudly from behind him. He seemed delighted by the situation. The hundreds of figures locked in squalor seemed to provide him nothing but amusement. This was power, Draco supposed, control and dominance, fear and cruelty. This was what he had helped fight for. It turned his stomach.

"What do you do with them all?" He asked, ignoring Yaxley's initial question. Hoping he hid the disgust in his voice, hoping he sounded awed.

"Make them work." The older man answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Magic can do many things boy, but sometimes brute force is more practical. And here we have a ready-made work force!" He gestured to the huddled individuals around him.

Draco nodded, secretly unconvinced. The figures here seemed too small, too weak to even stand up, never mind be capable of manual labour. They were here for cruelty's sake. As a statement of power to any group crazy enough to stand against the Dark Lord; as a statement against the Order.

Bony fingers reached out through the darkness, clutching around his ankle, causing him to stumble. Yaxley cracked a whip, and the skeletal figure pulled back, screeching like a wild animal. He was sure that at one time that screech would have been comprehensible. Now it was just sound, the words were gone. They no longer mattered, nobody listened anymore.

"I think I've seen enough" Draco said coldly, shaking out his cloak, glad of an excuse to appear disgusted enough to quit the tour.

"Are you quite sure? You're father thought you might wish to take a _souvenir_ home with you" Yaxley flashed a cruel smile. Rotten, yellow teeth. Draco knew what he meant. They all knew. That's why these scrawny, bony women were here. Playthings for the Death Eaters.

"As charming as that sounds, Yaxley, I'd rather keep this filth away from my home, and myself." He spoke as cold and controlled as always. He wouldn't let the cracks be seen.

He walked back along the thin runway, towards the door through which they entered. That was when he saw her. From the first glance he was certain it was her. She was thinner and paler, but she was unmistakeable. She had been watching him, but the minute he had met the gaze she had dropped her head, dark knotted curls masking her face. She didn't want to be seen. They mustn't know who she is, he reasoned. If they did, she wouldn't be sitting in this pit. Clever girl, he thought, at least she hasn't lost her mind.

"Something catch your eye?" Yaxley sneered over his shoulder.

Draco froze. Eyes still focused on the bowed head. He should walk away, leave her there, she was nothing to him.

Except she was; she was real.

A real live person, a person he knew, he had gone to school with. He couldn't leave her here in this hell, to be beaten and whipped and starved, or worse... Death Eaters playthings. The thoughts swirled in his head. He needed to get out... He was definitely going to be sick this time.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go back. Wasn't it easier once? Bickering in Potion's class, Mocking Weasley, Teasing _her_; that had been his life once. Hadn't it? Maybe it was just a dream... It felt like one.

He shook his head and moved to leave. She raised her head. What was that in her eyes? Fear? Hatred? Desperation? Had she expected him to tell? Had she expected him to save her? Hadn't he been able to read her once?

She was an open book _once_. He was sure of it. Wore her heart on her sleeve. She laughed, she cried, she punched him. No great mysteries. But, now he couldn't even tell what that shimmer in her eye meant.

He sighed. Turning to Yaxley, his voice almost a whisper, nowhere near how he had wanted to sound. "The girl, in the corner... curls." He swallowed, eyes darting back to hers. Her brow furrowed, eyes wide, shock evident on her face.

"I want her"

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R & R pretty please...


	2. Chapter 1

Thanks to anyone who reviewed, favourited, or added this to an alert list... You all made my day!

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Yaxley's yellowing smile widened. "Are you sure? She's got more than a little fight in her, that one."

Draco bit his lip to stop from smiling. _More than a little fight_. That was it Granger, keep fighting. Don't let them win. _Them_? He considered the word. Was he one of _them_?

"I'm sure I can handle it Yaxley" He snapped back from his reverie.

"Come here girl" Yaxley snarled. Her eyes darted between him and Draco, but she didn't move. "I said come here" Yaxley screeched, pulling out his wand. "_Crucio_" There was an explosion of light, intensified by the darkness of the hall.

Draco could hear the rest of the captives, scrambling away. The noises of fear echoing through the air. Feet on the wet floor, nails on the rocks, pushing, pulling, barks of fear. But worse, much worse, was that scream. Her scream. The sounds of a dying animal. Maybe he was wrong. She couldn't still be sane, could she? Living in this Hell? He thought he was saving her, but from what? How did he know what she'd been through? Maybe it wasn't even her?

His eyes adjusted to the dark again. The noise had died down, leaving in its wake a cruel silence. She lay there, on the ground, hair around her like a mane. Like an animal. Her breathing was harsh and ragged, he could see her chest heave with each breath, as if it pained her to go on living.

Perhaps, she wanted to die.

She raised her head, hair in her eyes, blood on her lip, she gasped the air "Go to Hell, Yaxley!"

Yaxley laughed. Actually laughed. "Haven't you noticed Precious, we're already there" He smiled, his broad, disgusting yellow smile. He raised his wand again, "Now, come here."

She opened her mouth to answer, when she caught Draco's eye again. She sighed. Silently she lifted herself from the stone floor, stumbling a little as she stood. She walked to them.

"See," Yaxley told Draco "she's quite obedient, when it takes her fancy"

Draco nodded dumbly. He couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say. What on earth did he think he was doing? He couldn't take Hermione Granger back to Malfoy Manor, it was madness, absurdity... He was going to be murdered for this!

She stood in front of them, lips pursed and arms folded. True, she was scrawny as hell, but Draco could have sworn that was the exact expression she had given the misbehaving first-years when they were back at Hogwart's.

She was watching him.

Yaxley reached out a pushed a curl behind Hermione's ear, it could have been an affectionate action, if she did not flinch so as he did it. "You are going to go with Master Draco," He spoke as softly as he could manage. "Aren't you a lucky girl?" Draco thought it all seem terribly perverse.

Hermione stared at Yaxley, "What if I don't want to?"

The reaction was instantaneous. Yaxley grabbed her by the throat, forcing her head back, causing her to whimper, staring down at her. "You disrespectful..."

"Yaxley" Draco spoke, controlled and commanding. "I rather if you didn't destroy my property"

"I am not..." Hermione started, but was cut off as Yaxley's fingers tightened their grasp.

"Let her go" Draco ordered.

Yaxley did so, glaring at Hermione as he did so. "Control, Master Malfoy, it is the only way she'll learn."

"I see that." Draco replied coolly.

He reached out, closing his fingers around her wrist. Expecting her to pull away, refusing to lessen his grip when she did.

"C'mon" He told her, pulling her towards the door, leaving Yaxley there amid those wailing, dying creatures. Surprised when she followed.

Even more surprised when she dropped her voice beyond a whisper, "You can't do this."

He knew she was right. He couldn't do this. This was a death wish.

And yet he never let go, he held fast to her wrist as he unlocked the door with his wand and pulled her out into the hallway and up stone steps. Suddenly she stopped following. He turned; she had paused at the first window, staring out to the night sky. It was a clear night. The full moon and the stars, displayed to their full advantage in the crisp night air. He found himself wondering how long it had been since she had seen the stars, the moon, the sun.

At the top of the stairs was an elaborate fireplace at the end of a grand hall. Tall, and masterfully carved in marble, its purpose was almost exclusively to serve as a Floo-network connection for the Death-Eaters. Despite this the roaring fire, provided warmth to the hall, a stark contrast to the cold damp of the basement rooms.

Hermione stared at the fire. "Where are we going?" her voice was hoarse.

"Malfoy Manor" came the controlled reply, as he led her towards the fire.

"Are you going to turn me over?"

He didn't answer.

He had been avoiding that question in his own head since he saw her. Turning her over, revealing her identity, would put him back in the good graces of those who had started to doubt his devotion. It was true his enthusiasm was waning. They had won but the results had not been what he had expected. Power, Hierarchy, Social Order, this was what they had been promised. What they had been presented with was something quite different. Murder, Genocide, Blood and Screaming. It was never ending and it was no prize.

She had stopped walking again. He turned. She pulled, trying to remove her wrist from his grasp. She stared at him. Amber eyes, burning with the fire's reflected glow. "Are you going to turn me over?" She asked again, voice a little more choked.

"Not yet." He whispered. It was the closest thing to an answer he could produce.

He felt her go rigid. "_Not yet!" _She repeated disgusted. "What has your last shred of human decency not run out yet? Should I be grateful, Malfoy?" she spat his name, a foul taste on her tongue, "Should I thank you?"

She tried to pull away, he tightened his grip, closing the distance between them trying to steer her towards the fire.

"You should be quiet."

"And what about until then, until your _compassion_ runs out... What am I to be? Hmm, Malfoy? Because I will not be your slave, or your pet or your... your," She stopped, the word catching her throat.

"Whore?" he offered coldly.

She stared at him... He could hear her breath, erratic and harsh. She looked as though she might cry. Or punch him. It was hard to tell. "I won't" she whispered.

He didn't answer. He slipped his free hand in to his pocket, and pulled a handful of Floo-Powder, throwing it in to the fire. She started to pull against him again. He grabbed her waist, pulling her back against his chest.

"Let go of me" she shouted. He released her wrist, to cover her mouth, muffing her cries.

"Malfoy Manor" he spoke calmly and clearly.

Colours flew by, fast and dizzying. When they stepped out of the fire-place, Draco let her go. She steadied herself, trying to identify something, anything familiar. It was a bed-room. Lush and Green, rich draping hung from the window and the four-poster bed. The furniture was a dark, antique wood. It was exactly the image of bedroom in an aristocratic family home. It made her feel sick.

"You'll stay here until..." He trailed off, unsure of how that sentence was supposed to end.

She didn't look at him. She stood back to him. Head bowed, shoulders slouched.

"You'll stay here." he reaffirmed, stronger this time, more definitive.

He turned towards the door.

"Why?" It was the softest of whispers, the saddest sound he had ever heard. She still had her back to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but there was nothing to say. No reason to be given.

She heard the door slam shut before she let the tears fall.

* * *

R&R

XOXO


	3. Chapter 2

Again thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited, put this on an update list. You all seriously rock my world.

Secondly, sorry for the wait. My fourth year project was due, and unfortunately Thesis trumps Fanfiction.

Finally, I own nothing but my mistakes. So don't try and sue me for my spelling errors!

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Draco stared at the ceiling. It had hours since he had left Hermione, and now the first rays of the morning sun were creeping around the curtains. He hadn't slept. A million thoughts raced through his head on an endless loop. He had weighed the options and concluded that there were only three possible options:

Tell his Father and proceed to hide in his room until the entire ghastly affair was over.

Ignore the problem and proceed to hide in his room until the entire ghastly affair was over.

Or get her the hell out of here.

He figured option number two wasn't really a viable choice. Tempting as it may be, he didn't think he could ignore Hermione Granger long enough for her to simply vanish.

So, that left two remaining options; turn her over or let her go.

Option number one would be easier. He could go down stairs now. Tell his Father and it would be done. He'd never need to see or hear from her again. It would be over, he could move on.

But, then if it were that easy, what was that awful feeling in his gut? That little voice telling him to get her out of here. He tried to smother that voice, all night he tried to silence it. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to block it out, but all he could see was her face. That voice was all he heard. Her voice. "Why?" One word, so soft, so sad. So, not like her. Not like the her he had remembered.

There he went again; remembering her. What did he think he was remembering? It wasn't like he had known her. He had never known her. But she had been a part of that time. And now, in that room he had a living, breathing memory. A story from days gone by...

For a fleeting moment he wondered if Potter was still alive. Or Weasley? No one knew any more. Sure, people told stories, claimed sightings, but no one was sure. Propaganda was a powerful tool and in this war both sides used it to its full advantage. Even if he was dead the Order would never let it get out. The day Harry Potter dies is the day hope dies. They stop fighting. This ends.

Draco sighed. Still two options left.

He pushed himself up off the bed, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror opposite. He looked like crap. His skin was ashen and there were dark marks beneath his eyes, he shook his head, hair falling into his eyes, trying to wake up.

He pulled on his robes, and reconsidered his appearance. To the rest of the world, this was the image of Draco Malfoy, born into wealth and privilege, pure-blood and Death Eater... He sighed. He still looked like crap.

He flung the door open and turned down the hall towards the room where he had left her. For a moment he just stood there, staring down the corridor, thinking. In the end, he decided against and turned towards the stairs instead. It was too early anyways. He needed more time. He needed to make a decision.

"Draco?" His mother's voice came behind him as a hand landed on his arm. The sudden contact caused him to jump. Narcissa stared at him, her elegant features marred by a frown, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah" He lied, running his fingers through his hair. He swallowed; maybe he should just tell the truth. Get it over with. "Where's Father?"

"In the library with your Aunt" She replied, the frown still in place, unconvinced by his disregard for her concern.

Draco's head shot up, "Bella?" he asked, shocked. It was far too early for her to be here. Something must be happening. The fearful realisation dawned. Perhaps they already knew. Telling them was one thing, being caught was something else.

"Why?" He just managed to choke out.

His mother shrugged "Business, I suppose".

Draco nodded. _Business_. That was what she called it. Anything to do with Voldemort or the Death Eaters was _Business_. She made it sound so ordinary, so mundane. He turned to leave.

"Draco" his mother's voice was softer now, "Your Father spoke to Yaxley."

He froze.

"There is a girl in that room, isn't there?" He didn't answer. Just stood there perfectly still. Waiting.

"Draco" The voice was sharper now. "Answer me."

He turned; his eyes meeting hers. He nodded. "You don't approve, do you?"

"It's not about my approval. Morals are hard to hold on to these days, Draco, I more than anyone understand that." She sounded tired; her voice was soft, sad and lost. She had always been untouchable, a marble statue, beautiful, but cold. She reached out. Her hand on his cheek. Her eyes searching him. She sighed. He thought he saw the regret in her eyes. It made his heart clench. "Consider what you do, Draco. That is all I ask."

"Mother?" Draco heard the whisper leave his lips, "The girl she's..." He felt his mother's hand leave his cheek and heard the footsteps behind them. He saw her stiffen, as if returning to her marble form. Her hands clasped in front, lips pursed, her eyes glazed, as if she had retreated internally.

"She's what?" His father's voice echoed from behind him. Draco turned, confronted by the imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy. Steel eyes studied him, waiting for the answer. Lucius Malfoy never asked a question twice.

Draco swallowed _She's Hermione Granger. She's Hermione Granger. She's Hermione Granger. _The thought repeated itself over and over in his head. He just had to say it. Just once. Just speak the words, and then he could go hide in his room. This would all be over. He would never have to have anything to do with her again.

"she's just...just another mudblood!" He had tried. He had tried to say it; but the name simply wouldn't manifest on his tongue. Something inside stopped the words from being spoken. He shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant, distant, like he didn't care. "Mother shouldn't concern herself"

Narcissa dropped her head, eyes to the floor, as her husband's gaze shifted to her.

"Your Mother is too kind sometimes, Draco" Lucius drawled, moving towards his wife, eyes focused. "Too soft. She can't see that those _people_, are little more than vermin."

He lifted her chin, making her meet his gaze. "Practically pampered you! I worried sometimes you were at risk of developing the same..._ sympathies_" He turned on the spot, to face Draco again, smirking at the boy. "Glad to see you've come to understand their true role."

Draco felt his jaw clench, but he forced himself to nod. "Yes Father." He replied dutifully.

Draco turned away again, to climb back up the stairs. He heard his father's voice behind him again "Yaxley mentioned she was quite young, said that he thought you might have attended that so called school together. Did you?"

He froze. Hand on the railing. Breath caught in his throat. He could hear his voice shake as he answered. "No Father."

"Shame." Lucius sounded disappointed. "Could have added her name to the list, shown that pitiful Order, who is truly winning this war. You don't know her name, do you son?"

Draco's knuckles were white around the railing as his grip tightened. "No." It was all he could manage. One word. But, it Draco knew meant so much more. He had made his choice, He couldn't do this. He couldn't tell. Couldn't see her name on that damn list in the Prophet.

Behind him Lucius laughed, "No, didn't expect you to."

A girl taken from a slave camp, locked in a room, and he didn't even expect him to know her name. Draco had never liked his father. He was cruel and sadistic, and treated Draco like dirt on his shoe. But he should have expected a name. That was the least anyone could ever know. Lucius Malfoy cared for no one but himself; the girl in the room didn't matter to him. In that moment Draco hated his Father.

Draco tried not to run up the stairs. Tried to control himself. Walk slowly. Calmly.

He went as far as the door of the room where Hermione was before he stopped. He tried to calm down, breath normally. He pulled a key from his pocket, inserted it in the lock and turned. He heard the click as the mechanism released. He paused listening. He thought he could hear her, footsteps, a creaking bed, crying. He shook his head. His head was too loud. He knew the room was soundproof. He couldn't hear her. All the noise was inside his head.

He sighed. He turned the key again, heard the mechanism click back in place and removed the key from the lock.

It was still too early.

* * *

R&R

XOXO


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